Shall We Dance?
by blakdove
Summary: Tim goes to the prom. Guess who gets the pleasure of being his date? The (somewhat) improved version!


Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters *sigh*, and I'm sure not making any money, so please don't sue me.  
  
Special thanks to all you guys who've read and reviewed my stories (:  
  
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Shall we Dance?  
  
by blakdove  
  
  
"I can't BELIEVE you talked me into this!" the girl growled through gritted teeth as she and her prom date sauntered onto the dance floor of the hotel their school had rented for the senior prom. Her voice was low and husky and she was over an inch taller than her date, plus the stiletto heels she wore on her rather shapely legs, shown off by her short midnight-blue dress. Her short black hair was pinned stylishly in glittery butterfly barettes. She glowered at a teenage boy who glanced her up and down appreciatively.  
  
Her date nudged her lightly with his elbow and said through a fake smile, "You don't want Babs to find out about your little obsession with Normandy Shields, now do you, Dick?" "You little black-mailing..." Dick Grayson, a.k.a. Tim Drake's prom date, Robyn, didn't finish as she noticed the chaperoning principal glance sternly in her direction.   
  
"Besides," Tim added, "You should be used to showing off your legs. You sure had enough practice prancing around in those short pants." Noticing the look in Dick's eyes, Tim found it wise to shut up and make a beeline over to the punch bowl.  
  
Dick adjusted his pantyhose. Dammit, how did girls wear those things? If only he hadn't challenged Tim to that pool game, loser do whatever the winner said. How was he supposed to know Tim actually knew how to play? All the times they've played before, Tim could hardly tell which end of the que to hit with. You're an idiot, Grayson, he thought bitterly. You don't even know when someone's hustling you.   
  
Then again, HE wasn't the one desperate enough for a date to bring his "older brother" to the prom. Sure, Tim had wanted to humiliate him, but Dick suspected that a major reason he was dragged to this thing was because Tim really couldn't find a nice girl to go with. Or any girl, it seemed like.  
  
Dick heard a wolfcall and realized with embarrassment that in his strugle with the nylons he accidentally lifted the skirt of his dress too high. He shot his offender such a glare that the ice in the punchbowl probably melted just from being in the same room with it. To top it off, Dick noticed that his pantyhose started running. Great, he thought, just wonderful. His bra was beginning to pinch and he felt the socks he used to stuff it trying to escape.  
  
That's it, he told himself. All the teasing about Normandy that Babs can give me couldn't be any worse than this. He turned decisively, about to leave, and in doing so tripped on his stilettos. Pitching forward, he rammed straight into the broad back of another guy.   
  
"Whoa! You alright there?" the guy asked, turning around and helping "Robyn" right herself. "Fine," she growled, deeply. "I mean, fine," she tried in a higher voice. "My name's Grant," the guy offered. "Wanna dance?"  
  
This was about the limit. Now some guy was hitting on him. Dick was about to turn and finally make it out that door when he saw Tim and his friends staring at him.  
  
"Looks like your date found herself a new boytoy, Timbo," a kid teased. Tim turned red with embarrassment. Dick smiled inwardly. He had a plan.  
  
Turning to Grant, who was waiting patiently, he said, "I'd love to dance. And my name is Robyn."  
  
After three dances with Grant (including a slow one during which Robyn ever so briefly put her head on Grant's shoulder), Tim stormed over to her, his face crimson with fury. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.  
  
Dick turned to Tim. "Oh, hi, Tim. This is Grant. You just looked like you were having such a blast with your friends that I didn't want to interrupt you for one little dance." Robyn gave Tim the sweetest, most feminine smile she could possibly manage. Tim, on the other hand, looked like steam was about to pour out of his ears. Grabbing Dick by the arm, he dragged him away from a very bewildered Grant and began dancing furiously, disregarding the fact that Robyn was smiling and batting her eyes at every guy who looked her way.   
  
But when another boy walked up to Robyn and asked her for a dance, Tim had had it.  
  
"That's it!" he yelled, grabbing Dick and dragging him towards the door. "We're leaving!" "Oh, honey, but the fun was just getting started!" Dick smiled, batting his mascara-laden lashes.   
  
Inwardly, Dick was jumping up and down. They were leaving, and Tim was the butt of the joke. He could hardly contain his self-satisfied grin when Tim's car pulled into his father's driveway. "Grant's a dream, isn't he?" Dick teased, getting out of the car. When Tim did not respond, Dick turned around to see why Tim had suddenly become so un-fun to mess with.  
  
A flash blinded him, and he heard the camera reel, as well as Tim's gleeful, "Say cheese!"   
  
Too stunned to say anything, Dick just stood there, dress and running hose and heels and mascara and all. Waving the Polaroid in the air, Tim grinned. "Wait till Babs sees this!" he squeaked and ran off as Dick made a grab for him but got tangled in his heels and fell.   
  
Grayson, you've outdone yourself this time, Dick thought dragging himself up. Babs will never let me live this one down. Suddenly, a frightening thought ran through his mind.  
  
I wonder if my hair looked alright? 


End file.
